


Touch

by pheeupatree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23982058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheeupatree/pseuds/pheeupatree
Summary: Mycroft overcomes his touch starvation, smut ensues.My first work. For the Soft Smut Sunday collection which I have quietly been admiring for some time.Prompt: hands
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Touch

“Look it’s fine, I’m really sorry, I guess maybe I read the situation wrong,” Greg ran his forefinger and thumb around his watch nervously.

  
Mycroft blinked out of his stupor just as Greg made to stand.

  
“Wait! I-” His thoughts trailed off.

  
It had been so long since he’d been touched. Years of denial, of longing for something more than cold sheets and quiet mornings. And then, a hand upon his leg. A murmured suggestion. A small crack in his glasshouse.

  
This was everything he’d ached for. He felt himself crawl out of his body and wrap around the very idea. Greg was handsome, with his easy smile and deep eyes, but with an indisputable goodness that one rarely finds in a person so universally attractive. This must be a mistake.

  
An evening of easy conversation and gentle coaxing, found Mycroft sat languidly gazing across the back of a sofa at Greg. Pouring another glass became an excuse for both of them to edge closer. Greg’s arm appeared behind him, and Mycroft couldn’t help but lean into the feeling. Not a touch, but a harmless suggestion of one. If anyone were to walk in, they’d mistake them for a couple, and Mycroft revelled in that thought. “Mine. If only for a while. If only in my imagination,” he thought to himself.

  
Greg’s other hand, broad and masculine, landed gently above his knee, thumb stroking a semi-circle upon his inner thigh.

  
“I want to kiss you,” Greg said softly.

  
Mycroft froze, overwhelmed. It must be a mistake. And if it wasn’t, Greg would soon come to realise that he had, in fact, made a mistake. Once he took Mycroft’s clothes off and saw his pale, middle-aged body. And, if he got as far as making love to him, then he’d see what an inexperienced, cold fish Mycroft was, and surely withdraw.

  
But as he looked up, he saw Greg’s features crumple. And with that he hated himself even more. That he’d been the one to make such a joyous, carefree man feel hurt.

  
“I- Gregory you didn’t. You didn’t misread me,” Mycroft stuttered out as he stood, reaching to place a hand on Greg’s arm as he turned to leave. “It’s just been some time… for me.”

  
Greg turned; his face open in realisation. They stared at each other, measuring the risks against the feeling of deep-seated want. Mycroft’s hand, still resting upon Greg’s arm, began a gentle caress. Fingers moving tidally in and out across Greg’s bicep.

  
A minute switch in Greg’s expression and he was moving to cup Mycroft’s chin. Greg came closer until he was breathing Mycroft’s air, eyes closed, a whisper of lips touching. But there he halted. Greg was waiting.

  
Mycroft’s breathing was ragged. He could feel his blood rushing towards his cock. Panic and arousal left his heart beating wildly. “Why has he stopped?” his brain screamed.

  
“I want you to kiss me.” Greg rumbled softly, as if he could hear the inner workings of Mycroft’s brain.

  
Mycroft couldn’t cope with any more games or uncertainty tonight, he once again found himself frozen. Greg’s hand joined the other upon Mycroft’s jaw, and with a light caress of fingers in the short hairs at his nape he began to melt. Mycroft shivered softly. He was, for now, convinced.

  
He closed the gap between them. Dry lips slightly parted, it was the meekest of touches. But, all the same, Greg needed to know that this was what Mycroft wanted too. He returned the kiss in earnest.

  
Mycroft’s hands fell upon Greg’s waist. He felt pleasingly solid and warm against him. His hands sought further, untucking Greg’s shirt and running up the smooth skin of his back. A small part of his brain told him it might be a bit too forward, as Greg groaned into the kiss. But as he moved towards Greg’s front and found a liberal scattering of coarse hair upon his stomach, his doubts were silenced. Mycroft’s pushed upwards to a broad chest, leaving Greg’s shirt rucked up and his stomach fully exposed.

  
Greg huffed a laugh against Mycroft’s lips. “Softer these days,” Greg said answering a question that had never been asked.

  
“Exquisite,” Mycroft countered. His urge to please Greg overcoming any initial nerves.

  
Greg moved towards Mycroft’s neck. Removing his tie and opening the first few buttons, he inhaled and began mouthing against overheated skin, easing his path with small licks along the way.

  
“I want you,” he ran his teeth gently up the length of Mycroft’s neck. “But only what you want to give.”

  
By way of an answer, Mycroft shifted his hips forwards. Hardness met Greg’s stomach and Mycroft groaned at the combination of sensations. As he rocked upwards, Mycroft’s hip found an answering bulge in Greg’s trousers. Mycroft whimpered and let his head fall back, granting Greg better access as he continued to worship his neck.

  
“Hands?” Greg breathed in Mycroft’s ear, before taking his tongue to the lobe and sucking hard.

  
“Please,” Mycroft moaned and jolted forwards, he was previously unaware that paradise was Greg Lestrade dragging his teeth down his ear lobes. He was achingly hard now and could feel pre-come starting to gather at the tip of his cock. “Please,” he repeated, unsure if he’d even managed to form the word on his first attempt.

  
“Okay darlin’,” Greg withdrew and smiled softly at Mycroft. He reached for Mycroft’s hand and drew him back toward the sofa. “Here okay?”  
Mycroft nodded mutely and let Greg guide him onto his lap.

  
“Gorgeous,” Greg whispered as he ran his hands up Mycroft’s elegant thighs. He continued upwards until he had framed Mycroft’s erection, rubbing each thumb along the bulge as Mycroft trembled.

  
Deciding that teasing may be best left for another occasion, Greg made short work of Mycroft’s belt and flies, finding white underwear that had grown obscenely tight with Mycroft’s now painfully hard cock. Greg rubbed his forefinger lightly in a circle around the damp patch of fabric, before finally drawing his underwear down and freeing Mycroft.

  
Mycroft whimpered as Greg took a firm hold on his cock, working his thumb around the slit and rubbing pre-come downwards. On rare occasions, Mycroft would allow himself to think of the handsome detective while doing this for himself. Never could he have imagined sitting in the man’s lap being petted and coaxed like this.

  
Greg nosed between Mycroft’s collarbones. He could feel in the tightness of Mycroft’s breathing that he was already close. He slid his other hand underneath Mycroft’s balls and rolled them across his fingers, gently closing around them and pulling slightly. Mycroft took in a desperate gasp as a stream of pre-come leaked from him. Greg began using a twisting motion on Mycroft’s cock, stopping to work his frenulum to bring him further to the edge.

  
“Are you close baby?” the words were breathed across Mycroft’s throat.

  
He was close, but Mycroft huffed agitatedly. “I need…”

  
Greg drew Mycroft closer, continuing to work his cock with a gentler touch to ease his urgency. Lightly now, with his thumb and two fingers dragging Mycroft’s foreskin up and down. Greg laid a kiss upon Mycroft’s temple. “Darlin’, tell me what you need,” Greg’s lips never left Mycroft’s skin as he spoke.

  
The casual usage of endearments affected Mycroft as much as the teasing stimulation. He slowed his breathing, heaving out a shaky sigh against Greg’s shoulder. “I want to feel you like this… too,” his voice came out muffled with his face buried in Greg’s collar.

  
Greg stopped his movements and reached for Mycroft’s hand, tangling them together and drawing him towards the aching erection in his trousers. “You can have whatever you need from me,” he said simply as if it was obvious.

  
Mycroft palmed at the bulge, not quite believing he could touch him in this way. And oh, but wasn’t he a pleasing size. Mycroft needed to see. He twisted Greg’s trousers open, and it was at this moment he discovered Greg’s penchant for foregoing undergarments. His erection sprang free. Mycroft leaned back and looked at Greg with an arched eyebrow.

  
“I erm… like the breeze,” Greg grinned sheepishly.

  
Mycroft laughed, his rich laughter that few have ever heard, and kissed Greg deeply. Mycroft began touching Greg. Hesitantly at first, drawing his fingers around the head, crossing the wet slit and rubbing circles on his frenulum. Greg moaned into the kiss, unable to meet Mycroft’s lips with as much finesse as previously. He began to buck his hips slightly, chasing the sensation he craved. It was at this that Mycroft grew more confident, interspersing firm pulls with teases to the glans until Greg was groaning expletives.

  
“Fuck baby… please, together”, Greg pulled Mycroft into his body and aligned their cocks. It was pure bliss. Hard and hot. Mycroft’s long and dexterous fingers spreading wetness between them, pulling them firmly. He then experimented with a rock of his hips, and the slick drag of skin, the brush of Greg’s trousers on his balls reminding him they hadn’t bothered to undress fully, was perfection. They both groaned, unable to maintain a kiss now, they sat foreheads together feeling each other’s enjoyment.

  
As Mycroft rocked harder, he drew a talented finger upwards and swiped across their heads and between, spreading slickness and giving them both what they needed. He quickly became overwhelmed, “Greg I’m- "

  
“It’s okay baby,” Greg panted.

  
Their joined cocks grew wet in his hand as Mycroft threw his head back and released with a shout. The debauched feeling of it, covered in Mycroft’s come, with the man himself still thrusting and groaning through the last vestiges of pleasure, was all Greg needed. He joined Mycroft over the edge, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck and grunting his name as he came across Mycroft’s hand and cock.

  
They came back to themselves in a boneless, sticky heap.

  
“Are you okay darlin’?” Greg’s voice was deep and the low vibrations rumbled through Mycroft.

  
Mycroft’s hands returned inside Greg’s somewhat rumpled shirt, skimming softly up his sides and drawing out a shiver. “Perfect.”  
He laid a chaste kiss upon Greg’s chest and nuzzled down further. It seemed that now Mycroft had been touched he would find it hard to let go.

  
It was fortunate that Greg had no plans to do so.


End file.
